The Wolf of Hogwarts
by Teenage-Twi'lek
Summary: Dumbledore is, needless to say, outraged. Two years ago, a Basilisk had terrorized Hogwarts' halls. Last year, the Dementors nearly killed the Boy Who Lived, the same would not happen this year, so Albus calls in an old debt, a century old debt. Meanwhile, a transfer student arrives from America. Will he be friend to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, or will he be foe?
1. Not in California anymore

**Hiya all! Been doing the _Ballet of the Airports_, in other words, traveling. I hope to continue updating stories now at the "usual" pace. I desided to venture into the _Harry Potter _world a couple of days ago, and after reading _Harry Potter and the Founding Lords_ by (shout out) _The Basilisk King_ (epic name by the way, it's quite...venomous :) puns...), I decided to try and write a fanfiction for it. Thus, here we are.**

**Note: I only watched the HP movies. Will read books soon. Therefore, any and all errors are due to bad-research. **

**AN: I, sadly, have never lived in the UK, therefore I do not own this lovely book series. **

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Wolf leaned against one of the brick columns that lined the platform. He had a book bag slung over his left shoulder. His brown bangs nearly covered his Oakley sunglass clad eyes. He scanned the platform, while at the same time twirling a five foot long staff. The staff was a Redwood branch that curled into a spiral at the end, with small leaves growing every few inches out of that end. Wolf wore a green short sleeved shirt, with a red life-guard jacket. A pair of black swim trunks with skull and crossbones checkered over it adorned his legs. He also wore a pair of Ocean Pacific flip flops, and a beach tan. All around him, kids milled about the platform, waiting for the train that would take them to a unique school in the Highlands of Scotland. Wolf drew many a curious glance from students and parents alike, and in turn noticed something strange. _No one, not one single person_ besides him had a staff.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by a loud train whistle. An old fashioned steam engine that chugged slowly into the station, lugging behind it dozens of train cars, the golden stenciled words of, _The Hogwarts Express_, decorate the side of the midnight black engine. Wolf rose, and halted the fluid motion of his staff, and firmly planted it into the ground. He walked toward the nearest car; however the unstoppable mob of small kids swarmed past him, halting his progress. Wolf grinned. At Westwood Coast, the kids were nowhere near that exited on their first year. As one of the last kids on the train, most of the compartments were filled to the brim. He walked down the aisle until, finding a cabin not fully crammed with people, he knocked.

"Do you mind? This is the first compartment I've found not filled to the brim." Wolf asked, surveying said compartments occupants; two guys and a girl. One boy had red hair and freckles, the other had black messy hair and a pair of glasses. His bangs almost completely hid a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. The one girl had brown hair pulled into a ponytail." _I know what your thinkiiiing." _A sing-song voice in his head teased. _"Shut up."_ Wolf mentally shot back, grinning none the less.

"Sure." The black-haired boy said, motioning for Wolf to sit down. As Wolf slung his backpack and staff into the overhead storage area, the girl piped up.

"You're an American, aren't you?" She said it with no spite, more with a sense of curiosity, as if she had never met one before. Wolf sat down.

"Yup, born and raised in the US of A."

"So you're a transfer student? From which school?"

"Westwood Coast, it's in northern California, just north of San Francisco." He answered, leaning back in the seat. "Sorry, my name is Wolf, Wolf Stargem; forth year conjurer." Only the girl frowned at that, but said nothing.

"Well, I'm Harry Potter, this is Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger." The dark-haired boy hesitated slightly when he said his own name, as if expecting Wolf to say something, but the American seemed oblivious to the names connotation. "I'm curious. Do you actually use that staff?" Harry asked.

"Of course, what do you use?"

"We use wands." Harry replied, pulling out his. With a flick of his wrist, and a _Wingardium Leviosa, _Wolf's backpack rose a foot before dropping back down as Harry ended the spell. Wolf nodded impressed. As the train blew its whistle once more, the train began to chug its way toward Hogwarts. The four kids began to exchange questions about the opposite schools, mainly so Wolf would not be completely out of the loop at Hogwarts.

The jet landed in Heathrow at exactly 4:30PM on the first of September, 1994. As it rolled to a stop, its doors opened, the stairs extended, and a man wearing a black suit stepped out and onto the tarmac. To any who knew suits, he wore a Paisley- Jacquard Evening Jacket, valued at $1100. His shoes, Givenchy Richelieu metal buckle loafers, fetched $300 more than his suit. He set off at a brisk pace, followed quickly by something approximating two dozen men. Within five minutes he arrived at a helicopter pad, on which rested a Sikorsky CH-53 Sea Stallion, its rotors already spinning. The man and his men loaded up quickly.

"How long is this going to take?" The man asked his pilot, an Italian accent lacing every syllable.

"A little over three hours, sir." The pilot replied.

"Make it three, to the minute." He fired back, his glare cold enough to sate the sun. Upon receiving their go to take off, the CH-53 whirred north, heading deep into the rugged Highlands of Scotland. As the huge vehicle flew through the evening, the man walked into the cargo area of the plane where his twenty-four men sat, waiting for their commander to brief them. "We are traveling to a 2-5-2 zone known as Hogwarts. Despite the odd name, it is a prestigious school for young Wizards and Witches. Their headmaster is an old friend of mine named Albus Dumbledore, to whom I owe a _Life_ debt." The assembled soldiers looked stunned. They had never known that their Commander owed someone a debt of such magnitude. "Furthermore, we have been called in to defend their school in light of the rise of an arch-lich of great power known as Voldemort. Hogwarts' recent security has been counterproductive, and as such, we are here to provide protection for the school and students; particularly several noteworthy ones who have been 'prophesized' to defeat this Dark Lord." Here the Commander gave a detailed biography of every single student, in a semi-sadistic 'most important to least important' order.

"Needless to say, failure will result in permanent expulsion, not just from Alpha Team, but from the entire Mountain, and furthermore from G.O.L.E.M." The men gasped. Expulsion from the Mountain, it was unheard of. Normally you just went down a team with every failure, but this mission was something else entirely. Something special. "Rellison, you and your unit are in charge of setting up the perimeter and security devices, be careful. Dedric. You take your unit and provide exterior security for the castle. Kaela and Melvis, your units will be in charge of security around the castle. Set up a vault and cameras." Now the fancily clad man turned to six people in the back, who sat apart from Alpha Team. "Ah, _cacciatori mito_, your job is simple. Eliminate all supernatural threats to the students, preferably before those threats enter the castle. If you do your jobs, Alpha team will not need to worry about pesky dragons, werewolves, and the like." He turned away and surveyed his team as a hole.

"Commander Nero, sir. We have a visual on the castle." The pilot chimed in over the coms system.

"Good." Nero said. "That sums it up. Alpha team, prepare for deployment."

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**I am good at many things, but chapters without conflict are not one of them. Please bear with my adverbial infested, sleep-inducing, chapters. If you find this interesting in the slightest, follow, favorite, or review. It takes very little time and makes me happier than a house elf at the prospect of freedom. **

**Ooh, by the way, _cacciatori mito _is Italian for _myth hunters_.**

**P.S. I like commas. **

**There's one! :D **

**I**

**I**

**V**

**(,)**


	2. Ninjas, Goblins, and (no) Necrophelia

**Finally, the summer is over. Soccer is over. The writing season has begun...summer was awesome...slept...ate...played some video games...won my custody trial (yay!)...shot some Gungans...good times. Here is a new chapter and I will attempt to recreate any semblance of a writing schedule. Yup. Enjoy.**

**P.S. She-jew-el...schedule...hehe. Sorry. (#dienaziscum)**

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_August 31__st__, 1994_

Wolf walked through the busy street, dodging the tidal wave of over-eager first-year students-to-be. He remembered the feeling clearly, and as so, he did not complain when several students ran headlong into him. As he walked, he checked off a mental checklist. Pet: Check. Robes: Check. Gringotts visit: Done. In fact, the goblins had been so efficient at transferring his account contents from California to here; it had taken only ten minutes, as opposed to the ten _days_ it would have taken the comparatively doddering fools of the bank wizards at the West-Coast Rock-feller's Bank. As walked to the Leaky Cauldron, where he was staying that night, he admired once more the ring around his finger. Considering all the implication is would have this year.

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_An hour and a half earlier:_

It had started when Wolf had entered the wand-shop, Ollivander's. The entrance room was dusty, with two faded chairs and a stained coffee table. Cobwebs lined the eaves and rafters. Behind a massive oaken counter was shelf upon shelf of small boxes. There must have been hundreds upon hundreds of wands.

"Indeed my boy." A cracked voice whispered from beside him. Wolf whipped his head around to see an old wizened man with hair reminiscent of Einstein. The man cocked his head. "An American… interesting, very interesting. I assume you need a wand, and therefore have a staff, may I see it?" Wolf figured he had little to fear, and pulled out a wooden cork. Upon being squeezed, the cork elongated into Wolf's staff. Ollivander nodded. Redwood, five feet three inches; the feather from a Thunderbird's tail as a core, and crafted by Toraga Tree-speaker. A grand staff maker, that elf, a great one." Wolf looked stunned, word by word correct. The old man _was _Einstein. The "Einstein wanna-be" returned the stave to its owner, before disappearing into the back isles. He returned with a birch wand. It proved to be too short.

The next wand was of the wrong material, according to Ollivander, and was tossed unceremoniously onto the massive counter. The third wand almost set the old wand-maker's hair on fire, and was therefore deemed improper. The fourth proved to be deaf, dumb, and blind to all of the wizards' coercions. The fifth was too 'slimy', and Wolf agreed after the sixth that he was not into birch wood either. Ollivander brought the next three in together. The seventh wand proved to be not so lucky and, much to the old man's amusement proceeded to incinerate the box of the ninth wand. The eighth wand blew up several shelves of wands, and was quickly confiscated by the proper authorities, aka Ollivander. The tenth wand procured a spider large enough for all the multitude of cob-webs in the room at once. After much screaming from a blonde first-year girl who walked in at the wrong time, the spider was banished. The eleventh wand did nothing at first, but it was later found to have turned the tired chairs' stuffing into cotton candy. Eventually the pile of wands began to grow, and as frustrated as Wolf became, the wand-maker became more and more excited.

Finally, the old man walked deep into the darkness and returned with an ornate metal box. Inside rested the most beautiful wand Wolf had seen yet. Its handle was wrapped in gold, and continued to form a hissing snake at the pommel. In the snake's jaws was what seemed to be a pearl. The wand itself was a very dark brown, with gold flecks embedded in it. "Twelve and a half inches, African Blackwood, with a thorn from a Manticore's tail as a core." As soon as Wolf touched the wand a bright white light filled the room, receding to reveal a ghostly apparition of a beautiful woman, lounging on a couch. Her dark hair cascaded down past her shoulders with a golden band on her brow. She wore a nightgown of silk that ended less than a foot below her waist. Several more bands of gold adorned her arm.

"_Child, as I record this message, I know my death looms near. The forces that I have for so long defied, will soon be able to strike. I am sure it will be deemed a suicide and, as such my fortunes will pass to my supposed lover. With this magically binding Will, however, all my personal fortunes will be collectively given over to my dear friend, Master Ravensmirk II until a suitable heir has been chosen by my wand. My heir will be a decedent of my dear brother, who currently resides in my birthplace of Macedonia. The gold, silver, and copper in my vault are to be used for the establishment of a goblin bank under the guidelines set in a letter I have written to him. Any funds used by the goblins from the Ptolemy fortunes are to be returned with interest on the awakening of a suitable heir. _

"_As you now hold my wand you need know but two things. You are the ancestor to one of the most powerful magical families in history. Whatever fame you earn will shape the future of our name. Be great. Second, a more detailed description of your fortune can be found in your vault as well as in a magical pocket in space you can access with a simple press of your family ring. Just imagining the pocket will enable you to reach it. Farewell."_

As the ghostly woman vanished, a ring appeared on Wolf's hand. It was a platinum band dotted with shards of onyx. An emerald snake coiled around it, weaving between the onyx pieces. The snakes eyes were minuscule rubies. Written in flowing gold script on the edge was emblazoned "_Ptolemy_". Ollivander looked shell shocked. "Son, I admit that my Egyptian is rusty, but do you realize who that was." At Wolf's shaking head, he continued. "Cleopatra Ptolemy, Arch-mage, Battle-master and Pharaoh of Egypt; she is also widely considered to be the most powerful Summoner and Duelist in history."

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Wolf walked into Gringott's lobby, surveying the horseshoe array of desks, each with a goblin sitting behind it. Picking randomly, he walked up to a teller. This goblin was pale grey, with long tattered ears. Golden earrings punctuated the wrinkling flesh, and yellow slits cleft gaping wounds for eyes. A constant, and slightly feral, smirk added jagged fangs to his visage.

"Hello…I was looking for access to the Ptolemy vault." Wolf said, slightly nervous in the face of this admittedly terrifying creature. The goblin stopped mid stamp, raising its head to survey the individual who had asked to see the most ancient vault the Goblins had ever guarded. Seeing the ring that gleamed on the boy's finger, the grey creature quickly mouthed a wand-less spell, one reserved for just this occasion. He quickly got off of his bench.

"This way, young sir," the creature rasped, "The Director would have a word with you." Wolf followed quickly as the goblin stomped off. He was led through a maze of passageways until he arrived at a solid ebony door. The goblin knocked thrice, before opening it. The room was spartanly decorated, with a large fireplace dominating each wall. A long table covered with neat piles of paper sat at the end. Through a gap in the papers, Wolf could see a very well dressed Goblin sitting, golden rings dotting his clasped hands.

"Thank you, Broodfang, that will be all." The tattered eared goblin nodded once to the Director, and once to Wolf before closing the doors. The Director stood, motioning for Wolf to take a seat. "Ah, you must forgive me; it has been a long while since a descendent of the Ptolemy line has graced a goblin with their presence. The last it seems, was Cleopatra herself, upon donating money to found this Bank. Of course, not this bank itself, for this branch was constructed in the 1400's, but the great Goblin Bank of Nations that Ravensmirk II built. Where are my manners? My name is Drell Ravensmirk VII." At this, the goblin reached out a wrinkled hand and Wolf took it.

"I'm Wolf, Wolf Stargem." Ravensmirk nodded.

"Now to the reason for your visit, I assume that you would like to see the contents of your vault?" At Wolf's nod, he removed a small folder labeled Vault 4, and passed it across the table. As Wolf opened it his eyes widened. Ravensmirk justified his name as he waited for the young man in front of him to finish reading the documents.

"Well….wow." Wolf was nearly speechless. The paper had also assigned values to properties, shares in companies, and alliance contracts. Furthermore, it had translated it all into a single sum in US dollars. He'd bee hugging Nicky Oppenheimer on the Forbes 400. _That is, of course, if you didn't have to split it with… _he cut off the familiar voice in his head with a quick acceptance. He ran back over the list. Then again, some of the alliances were invaluable. Ravensmirk slid a few items across the table. The first was a black steel card with Gringott's flowing across the front in golden calligraphy. The second was a small clear prism, the same size and shape as a ten-sided dice. It looked like glass, with blue tendrils of color undulating in its depths. The third object was what looked like a muggle cheque-book, following the same black and gold design as the metal card.

"The first object works just like a human's debit card, withdrawing money from your account for use both in and out of the magical world. The third item is also what it looks like, not all stores are set up for the card yet. The prism is your key to Vault 4, just slide it into the key-hole and the rest is _magic_." Ravensmirk did just that, and action reminiscent of the most terrifying horror movies. "It also serves as a port key directly to your accounatnt , and will glow red and heat up if any of your finances are in peril. As a final security measure, it is coded to your magical core, therefore preventing any others from using it to access your vault. All that remains is to assign a goblin to be your personal accountant, but I will take care of that." He reached across the table to shake Wolf's hand, and he did, rising to do so.

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Less than ten minutes after leaving his desk, Broodfang returned to find a strange letter on it, one that had not been there before. A wax seal was emblazoned with a sideways eye, the pupil replaced with three interlocking diamonds. Broodfang instantly recognized it and frowned. _What did they want?_ He opened the letter before raising an eyebrow. And for the second time that day, he stomped off to find the Director. In the shadows of the rafters high above, a figure watched the goblin depart, smiling to himself.

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**So, what'cha think? Any good. Do you want the secondary POV next chapter to be Nero? Mystery guy? New character (got plenty of those cooked up)? Review please. If you don't, then you are a llama...that is supposed to be a bad thing...right? :)**

**P.S. Don't own 'nuthin but my own characters...and I will go all Scottish-Polish-American-Viking on your derrier if you try and steal them...ze preciouses... :D**

**Otiis Omnibus,**

**Teenage-Twi'lek**


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